


Redemption

by BluebellDestroyerOfWorlds



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Good Slade Wilson, I don't want to give away the plot, In a way, M/M, Redemption, Short One Shot, The feels are real, honestly i have no idea how to tag this, it's so short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluebellDestroyerOfWorlds/pseuds/BluebellDestroyerOfWorlds
Summary: "If you do mean it. Then do it. The hard part isn’t the killing. You said that yourself. It’s what comes after."Choices, some more rooftop shenanigans, Slade has a heart and Dick has a spectacularly bad Star Wars reference. Oh and Angst.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 89





	Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> So,this is another one of the little moments I found lying around on my computer. The concept was good, but the writing was dreadful, so much editing ensued. Enjoy!

"I could end this, right here, right now, and I. Wouldn't. Look. Back." The voice was rough and so desperately void of emotion. Every word rang fake and stretched. A simple truth hiding behind a bad lie. A bad lie, accompanied with the clicking of a safety catch, muffled only slightly by the steady roar of the rain.

  
  


A carefully placed foot, clad in black and blue, a small step forward and a gun was drawn from a black leather holster fixed at and armoured hip and pointed steadily at the approaching man. Slade Wilson’s face stayed expressively emotionless. "You don't mean that." This voice was softer, kinder, with a hint of reproach. Bittersweet and honest. "Maybe a year ago, but not _now_."

  
  


The gun jerked slightly as the figure moved closer. He stopped and gripped it's barrel, guiding it to his chest. Right above his heart. That single blue eye widened a fraction. Just one curl of his finger and it would be done. The damned fool wasn’t even wearing bulletproof armour. He’d probably left the apartment as quickly as he could, after noticing Slade was gone. The thought made something long dead flare and sputter in the mercenary’s chest.

  
  


"If you do mean it. Then do it. The hard part isn’t the killing. You said that yourself. It’s what comes after."

  
  


Rain poured down on the two figures and somewhere, far off, thunder rolled. Distantly, Slade wondered if Gotham’s weather was being so dramatic on purpose. It felt affected. Too convenient and cinematic. Maybe he’d wake up soon and this whole mess would have just been a dream. His pretty bird would still be drooling on his chest in their bed, in their apartment, with no knowledge of Slade’s next job. He’d hear about the governor's death on the news the next day. He might suspect. But he wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t know and Slade wouldn’t have to choose.

Black, blue and bronze gleamed in the moonlight. It was cold and wet, but they stayed, motionless, for what seemed like a small eternity. The gun began to shake in his gloved hand and finally the man wrenched it away, sending it flying with such force that it hit the flat, stone rooftop and broke into several different parts.

  
  


"Fuck!"

  
  


It was hard to tell whether the water streaming down their faces was really just the rain now. The tell tale redness surrounding the corners of their eyes spoke of something far more intimate. "You'll ruin me, Grayson." It was barely audible, half a snarl, half a sob. Real anger was there now. Nothing suppressed. Nothing fake. It should have hurt, but it was almost better than the relief rising in the vigilante’s chest. Almost. The words _He couldn’t do it. He can’t kill me. He loves me._ were ricocheting around Dick’s skull. His chest rose and fell as he watched Slade stride back and forth in front of him, like a caged tiger. Angry and frustrated and scared. It felt almost natural to head him off at a turn, watch that sharp gaze finally come to rest on him, instead of the ground. It felt good to see some of that pain melt away, just with one look.

  
  


"No, Slade." Dick whispered, his hands reaching up to stroke the man's cheeks, cupping them with gloved fingers, short beard rubbing against smooth spandex. He didn’t miss the way Slade leaned into his touch. "I'm going to save you."

  
  


"And who the fuck said I want something like that? What gives you the right to even offer this shit?!" The rage in the mercenary's voice would have made most people flinch, or take a step back, but Dick just smiled. He moved closed and placed a kiss on Slade’s chilled lips. The puff of warm breath on his mouth and the way the man automatically moved with the touch, before stiffening again, was all Dick needed as encouragement.

  
  


"This isn't about what you want. It's what you need. What your kids need.” Slade snarled and tried to move away, but Dick kept his jaw in place, determination growing in his voice. “This is what I need from you." The tension in those wide shoulders grew, then shifted and large hands came to hold the wrists below his chin. There was a warning in that touch, the reminder that that grip could crush bone, but at the same time, he held Dick to him, keeping him close, inviting him in. The fight had left Slade Wilson. He had lost and this time he was damned sure that it was only his pride that really cared. Richard fucking Grayson. This man would be the death of him, he knew it. In more ways than one, the thought thrilled him.

  
  


A quiet chuckle left the mercenary’s lips, he shook his head. "You really are a walking cliché, you know?" Slade shifted his face to kiss the palm of the black and blue gloves still cupping his chin. "But fine. I'll play along. What is it I need? To become a superhero? Change my name and uniform to something less threatening? Help old ladies cross the road and fetch cats stuck up trees? Join one of your do-gooder clubs?"

  
  


"Maybe..." Dick murmured, royal blue eyes fixed on those harsh lips. "For now I think we'll just settle with the no killing thing." A small smile tugged at his mouth as his eyes found Slade's single one again. "Or is that too hard for you?"

  
  


"Are _you_ seriously trying to goad me into being a law-abiding citizen, _Mr. Vigilante_?" Slade asked, incredulity painting his words.

  
  


"Is it working?"

  
  


"...Fuck you."

  
  


"Yes, please." Dick smirked, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. Slade groaned and rolled his eye. That was so cliché. And stupid. And… _Adorable._ Underneath Dick’s touch muscles twitched and the mercenary took another step closer to him. Their chests were touching now and Dick had to tip his head back a little to look Slade in the eye. It felt very familiar.

  
  


"You know..." Slade hummed, letting Dick pepper kisses along his jaw. "You can't fuck your way out of everything."

  
  


"Prove it." Dick's hands began to work slowly at the straps of Slade's armour, in measured, practiced movements.

  
  


Slade sighed and leaned down to capture his lover's mouth with his own, his own hands grabbing his hips and pulling them even closer. "Maybe next time you forget to do the laundry. You still have some convincing to do."

  
  


Dick giggled. He could feel the tension between them washing away with the rain. Comfort and easy words were replacing it. Slade was his. "Come to the light side. We have booty."

  
  


“Pushing it, kid.”

  
  


“Then shut me u- Mhm!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Honestly I wanted to build a story around this scene, but all my ideas were a little shit, so I just decided to post it as is. I might revisit this and include more plot later.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Feedback is welcome! And I has a tumblr! (shameless plug, because, yeah...)
> 
> I'm working on rewriting/finishing quite a few other fics atm, so hopefully I'm have some more up soonish.


End file.
